


Breath and Pulse

by orphan_account



Series: Almei week 2017 [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AlMei Week, Child, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Strange POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I have been stationed here for nearly two years, during which it has been just the two of them. Now they brought a new person to sleep in here, which makes my task much heavier. Especially when she whines and cries all day long. I wonder why they love her so much?Written for Day 7 of AlMei week 2017.





	Breath and Pulse

I’ve been stationed in this house for nearly two years. 

Before, I had been stuck in a small apartment, where my sides almost touched the walls and every creak of the mattress echoed in the dim-lit room. It was such a sad environment, populated by a short blonde boy and a person always wearing an armour. 

They came home in the late hours of the night, if they come, when nothing moved around the city anymore, except for a lost care or drunk guy. When they came, the floor would squeak and the bedsheets would shuffle until the blonde lay down on my mattress and unbraided his hair. Sometimes, he’d take out a pocket watch and whirl it around, throwing it in the air only to catch it again and open it with a sigh.

“I promise we’ll get our bodies back”, he told the armoured boy after the display, whatever that meant. Their discussions never seemed to make much sense to me, talking about things such as Philosopher’s Stones and Equivalent Exchange.

The one in the armour spent his nights on the bed nearby, but he never seemed to sleep. My brother told me he didn’t even feel heavy enough to be a person, and that he had a feeling he was like a ghost. If he is right, I must say I’ve never seen a kinder ghost. On one occasion, he brought a bony, starving cat to the room and petted and fed it throughout the night, despite his Brother’s mumbles.

* * *

 

As a matter of fact, my actual owner also seems to like cats very much. Sometimes, he brings one or two of them for several days, only to look after them and make sure they regain their strength. He pets them much in the same was the armour boy did, with undescribable love and compassion.

In this room, there is more space than in the previous one I’ve inhabited. The owners have placed me in a pleasantly beige chamber, where everything smells like fresh detergent, exotic tea and books. There is also a whole wall covered in Alchemical and Medical texts, documents and research. In fact, when I was moved in, I’ve noticed another room dedicated to these fully. Every evening, the holders always fall asleep with a book in their hands, which slowly escapes the grasp of their fingers as they nod off, eventually landing on the soft pillows with a muffled thud.

The atmosphere here is always calm. Unlike the pressing one in my previous apartment, I get to host a rather cute couple. There is a man with dark blonde hair and golden eyes, who reminds me a bit of my previous short owner, and a woman with dark hair and pale complexion. From the way she carries herself, I think she is not from these places: she smells like exotic spices and strange flowers and wears her hair in buns. He, however, seems to feel at home in this country, with his short haircut and soft voice.

The two of them never get in bed unless they are together, so I can only assume they are a couple. Even so, they never act too cheesy with each other. There are the natural good night kisses he plants on her unbraided hair or the quick good morning pecks she uses to wake him up, but other than that, they are never grossly intimate. Sometimes, he’d wake up first and quietly stare at her sleeping figure until her eyes fluttered open. Even if I could talk, I don’t think I would bother such a tranquil stage that even the nature seems to bless. When she’s the first one to be kissed by the morning rays and her hair gets toyed with by the fresh eastern breeze, she gets up slowly and starts her day by syncing with the nature and with her sleeping husband.

From time to time, I get to witness their morning workouts, a swift succession of movements that look like a mesmerizing dance to me. Being as massive as I am, I can’t even phantom ever moving like that (when there is need of two people only to lift me and I need to be turned on the side to enter through a door). The two of them, however, make it seem easy. They anticipate each other’s movements and dodge, strike again and flex, bend their arms and knees in a never-ending cycle of offensive attacks and defensive strategies. If they hadn’t called it “fighting training”, I could have sworn it was a dance as exotic as my female owner.

I’ve heard their names often enough to remember them: he is called Alphonse and he refers to her as Mei. I’ve heard it roll off their tongues slowly and sweetly, like honey when you pick it up with a spoon and it lingers in the air between the hungry mouth and the jar; I’ve heard them whisper them before wishing each other sweet dreams; I’ve heard them whispered rushedly in the middle of the night when one of them hears a strange sound or when they worry about each other; I’ve heard them moaned in moments of intimacy only I have witnessed and which I won’t disclose; I’ve heard them said in angry voices when they argue over the other’s safety.

Even so, I prefer referring to them as  _ him  _ and  _ her _ . It feels more general, and it helps me believe that one day, I might again meet owners that care so deeply for each other.

Bu today, it’s not their names I hear. Instead, I feel them on the mattress, heavier than usual. There's third pulse beating besides the two I have become accustomed to and a third breath warming the bed covers. And I hearmboth of them gushing over the person cradled into her arms. Trisha, they call her.

She must be only a few days old, a bundle of rosy meet and tear-stained cheeks. She’s covered by white clothes and wrapped up in a warm blanket, despite it being spring already. Honestly, I don’t get why they’re so excited about her and what urges them to hold her so close and sing to her when she cries. For me, she simply destroys the balance my owners have created with her screams and constant need of attention

It’s not until she falls asleep that I can finally enjoy some peace and quiet.

“She’s beautiful.” he whispers, hugging his wife and kissing her forehead, all the while looking at the baby. I don’t get what he deems as beautiful: I think it’s simply annoying. To my surprise, she nods in agreement and leans her head on his shoulder, obviously exhausted.

They both fall asleep shortly afterwards, leaving me to hold all three of them in their peaceful slumber. I fixate my gaze on Trisha, trying my best to see what’s so amazing about her. While sleeping, her features have relaxed and she looks more human, yet I still wouldn’t dare call her beautiful.

But then, my eyes shift involuntary to his face, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. He’s smiling in his sleep, an arm protectively wrapped around his wife and daughter. And she’s beaming as well, her face senine as she holds the sleeping bundle with both hands. I still don’t understand why they love her so much, but she makes them happy, so I try giving her another chance.

In the wee hours of the morning, her eyes snap open and she takes in her surroundings. For a moment, I think she’ll start crying, but instead, she shifts in her arms and the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. Just as I’ve watched her a hundred times. I feel the little one tried to connect to her surroundings for a split second.

My theory proves to be wrong when her face suddenly gets redder and she starts crying, waking her alarmed parents. While she feeds her, I can’t move my stare from the baby as I make an attempt to feel her  _ qi _ and connect to it: it has only been visible for a second, but she seems to take after her parents. As her breath evens out after having eaten and her pulse steadies, I feel it again: the flame of her life tingling in this world as she becomes aware of what surrounds her.

When her dad takes her in his arms and starts rocking her on his knee softly, singing a lullaby to put her to sleep, I start accepting her existence into this world and wish to see how she’ll grow up.

I now feel three breaths warming the mattress and three pulses beating as one each night when the family goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my entry for the last day of AlMei week 2017! It has been a thrilling ride for me, and I hope you have enjoyed it just as much! Let me know your thoughts in the comments down below and leave me kudos if you apreciated it! I'm open to new prompts all the time!


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